


close your eyes

by brokenEisenglas



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel Ultimates
Genre: (not really but kind of?), Crossover elements, Gen, Hurt Tony Stark, Infinity War spoilers, MCU elements, Mind Stone, ambiguous ending, not post-Ults 2 canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 04:20:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18229814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenEisenglas/pseuds/brokenEisenglas
Summary: Tony's head is screaming; alien ships are falling from the sky; and Anthony won't stop crying. He's so tired and his body hurts, and he just wants a break.





	close your eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, all! So, this is not my first Ults!fic idea, but it is the first I've posted. I'll start by saying that I started to get back into the Avenger related things because of the MCU, without a doubt. Then, in the last few years, the Ultimates were brought to my attention, and I've fallen in love. I'm not as versed in this particular universe, but, what I do know, I absolutely enjoy.
> 
> This idea is inspired by Infinity War events. If you haven't seen the movie and you don't want even the hint of spoilers, probably don't read this. However, this is the translation of the premise into the Ults world. For those of you who continue to read, I hope you enjoy.
> 
> I'm not the best writer, but I do hope this is to the liking.

His head fucking _hurts_.

It’s so loud around him. There’s fighting everywhere. The team is scattered, nearly overwhelmed, and the wave has only just started. Fires burn, smoke fills the air, and without the suit, he wouldn’t be able to see. He wouldn’t be able to fight.

Fuck, his head hurts, and his body is _so_ tired. He hates chemo, so goddamn much.

 _I’m sorry_.

 _Hush, Anthony. It’s not your fault_.

He ignores the vile stray thought that says it is.

They’ve been here for no more than two hours, and it’s as though the ships are endless. The soldiers, endless. Where one falls, six take its place, and if not for the damn chemo, he’d be just fine.

It does always get worse before it gets better, doesn’t it?

The screaming in his head has dulled to a buzzing drone as he’s been beating down lines of alien dogs. The comms chatter has been mostly grunts, huffs, and the rather liberal use of expletives. They’re all preoccupied, unable to help one another in the horde.

They don’t even know why they came!

 _I’m so sorry_.

_Not now, Anthony. It isn’t your fault. Just-- stay calm, kiddo._

He’s ripping the legs off a particularly ugly, dripping beast when he hears Clint’s “Incoming!” shouted over the comms far too loud and the following shockwave knocks him back on his ass. He must’ve said something because all he vaguely hears next beneath the high pitched frequency left by a damaged eardrum is Steve’s worried Captain yelling and the thunder in Thor’s wake and—

_Tony… please._

The pain that follows is like nothing he’s felt before. It’s so much that he isn’t sure if it’s even pain, if it’s his body or another’s. He feels there, but distant. Electric, fire, ice, all encompassing _agony_. Someone is screaming.

_It’s my fault._

It’s him.

_I’m sorry._

_It’s not your fault, kid. Stop apologizing._

One instant he’s back-bowed off the ground, suit and all, and the next nothing. No excruciating agony to speak of. The screaming in his head has grown louder.

“Stark? You hear me?”

“Too loud and very clearly, Cap.” Raising his body and the suit from the ground takes effort, too much effort. _It shouldn’t hurt this much_ , he thinks. “What’s-- who’s the new player?”

In his head, Anthony cries.

The strike of object to the chest armor crunches the suit, throws him through the air.

 _That’s the new player_.

The sensation of flying is incredible. It’s as inspiring as it is frightening, and as soon as Tony had finished finishing the first version of the Iron Man armor, he’d taken it for a ride. Controls had been iffy, HUD functionality limited, and oxygen… not fairly regulated when regarding the faulty seals. But, it had given him a rush, euphoria beyond compare. Then, he landed.

He hates landing.

Despite the impact gel, the ground _hurts_. He bounces, the intermittent weightlessness a reprieve from the repercussions of fast moving heavy as fuck metal case with human squish inside meets immovable celestial motherfucker that has no give left for anyone, much less Tony Stark, and damn Thor for making him feel like this about a damn rock that isn’t—

“It lives.” He’s struggling to rise back to his feet, when he _feels_ the words reverberate through him, like a wave rolling over the sands, removing, exposing, transforming. It brings him to his knees. “Interesting.”

His body feels heavy, so, so heavy. The suit suffocates, the armor a metal coffin immovable by shaking, exhausted limbs. The helm rolls on his shoulders against his will; he’s so tired.

_Wake up, Tony!_

“TONY!!!!”

He can’t catch his breath. The suit isn’t circulating. _It doesn’t, doesn’t have power. I can’t, I have to…_ The air is wet, humid from his encapsulated breaths. His lungs hurt, and his chest feels like its being stepped on, and he can’t feel his legs, and—

_Please, Tony. Get up. Please, wake up._

_Don’t cry, kiddo_ , he soothes the child in his mind. His child. _No reason to cry_.

Something big strokes down his temple, pressing lightly. It feels good. So good. He’s so tired, and it would be nice to just be held. Softy, tenderly. He doesn’t care about a good fuck, if he could _just_ find someone who would—

“You have something I need,” that voice like the ocean, rolling over him, through him, growls. “It is unfortunate that I’ll have to take it.”

When he opens his eyes, black like an endless abyss stare back, and it’s in that moment, that split second of lucidity before it all ends that he realizes:

“I’m going to die.”

Devil’s teeth shine back.

He doesn’t hear Steve’s roar or Jan’s cry as he thinks, _Close your eyes, son._

He doesn’t hear anything at all.

**Author's Note:**

> P.S. I actually really love Tony Stark. Planning an arc and shield tattoo for my chest type love (shipper's heart and all). I also did this in one sitting, and only did a cursory SpaG check. If you notice something, have suggestions, or maybe want to do something with this, feel free to let me know.
> 
> Don't hesitate to let me know what you think! :)


End file.
